


Come What May

by cloudsinmycoffee9



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Family, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsinmycoffee9/pseuds/cloudsinmycoffee9
Summary: "She's always the one to ease old feet-in-the-clay-Robert into the modern world. So she still does a bit of that. In very touching ways, he does allow this to happen."— Elizabeth McGovernSpeculation on what might be coming in Season 6.
Relationships: Cora Crawley/Robert Crawley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

"But aren't you the least bit curious?" she propped herself up on one elbow and fingered his collar with her free hand, brushing the backs of her knuckles against his neck before leaning in to kiss the skin there. He murmured in appreciation until she pulled back to look at him again, expecting an answer.

He sighed, gripping her a little more tightly around her middle where he held her against him, clearly a little frustrated to have to continue conversation. "I trust Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes and Carson. We purchased the appliance. I have been assured it is doing it's job. I see no reason to traipse about after midnight and risk being caught by the servants to satisfy some idle curiosity - "

"Spoilsport," she huffed, rolling away from him.

" -when I am far more curious about how to get you to make the same sounds you were making this morning before we were so unkindly interrupted by your maid," he growled, rolling after her and wrapping an arm around her middle, nuzzling at her neck.

She let herself push her bottom back against him and was gratified at the groan she heard. She could just wait until morning, she thought, feeling his hand drift higher and brush the underside of her breast. She sighed contentedly before shaking her head; softly yet determinedly grasping his wrist and lifting it from her.

"No, Robert," she began primly. "I won't be distracted. I really want to see it! I'll just be a minute."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and began tying her robe around, feeling around the floor for her slippers. She looked down at his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, mouth hung open in surprise.

"Cora, you can't be serious."

She could see just a sprinkling of his chest hair peeking out from the top of his pajamas, and he looked impossibly adorable and boyish and all that she loved about him. It took willpower to not reach out and ruffle his hair and lean down to kiss him, and slide herself back into bed, but she fixed her robe more securely around her middle and stared back down at him. She really did want to see the thing they had discussed for what seemed like months on end - the most modern thing in the house, the most incredible thing Mrs. Patmore had imagined, something that would make lives easier and make food last longer and according to Carson, made quite the interesting noise. No. This could not wait until morning.

"Perfectly serious," she announced, lifting her nose in the air just a bit and walking to the door. She had a hand on the knob before she looked back at him, his gaze having followed her as she crossed the room.

"Well? Aren't you coming with me? What if something were to happen, Robert?" she batted her eyelashes just a little at him, knowing he was powerless to it, and heard him grumble "of course I'm coming. What - leave you skipping about the stairs at all hours, what are we coming to? What if something were to happen-" and smiling to herself as he righted from the bed, found robe and slippers, and came to join her at the door.

"I hope you're satisfied," he said, standing before her, knotting his dressing robe rather firmly.

"Very satisfied, darling, at least for the moment," she leaned up to kiss him, feeling him lean in just enough so she knew he wasn't truly cross at all. "Come, now. It will be a kind of adventure! And I promise to make it worth your while," she added, grabbing his hand and heading out into the hallway.

The candle she had thought to grab from the nightstand cast shadows as they cautiously made their way down the stairs, hand and hand. She felt suddenly rather nervous - rather glad that Robert had agreed to join her. The house looked and sounded so different after dark, it seemed so much bigger - and it struck Cora that it had been quite some time since she had ventured out past her bedroom door after bedtime; quite some time since she had felt the need to visit the kitchens after dark.

She tugged her husband's hand more closely to her, letting him take the candle and lead the way when he reached for it, leaning in towards his warmth and hoping she knew how much she loved him for coming with her.

They walked for quite some time in the dark, Cora expecting she didn't know what around each corner, until they were finally descending the stairs she knew led to the kitchen. She felt warmer just walking down them - the smell tea brewing and bread baking always seemed to be in the walls of this place.

They made their way down the last steps to the big island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Here we are!" she said, a little too brightly, turning to her husband for reassurance. He smiled down at her before they both heard it - yes, Carson was right! It was a most peculiar hum.

"That sound - " Robert began, turning.

"I hear it, too!" Cora added, and they walked together towards the large silver box that made said noise. She reached out a hand to touch it, expecting a shock or an overwhelming vibration. But she reached for the handle and only felt - "oh, it's cold." She pulled on the handle and they both gasped quietly as the door opened and revealed row after row of bowls filled with unidentifiable goods. The chill reached them and Cora shivered involuntarily. Robert pulled her to him in reflex.

"Well, darling, here we are. We have arrived at the door of an icy sort of modern world." He chuckled a little.

"Don't tease!" Cora admonished.

"I'm not, Cor." He reached for her chin and brought her face to look up at him. "But this is a rather cold spot. And now that we are here, looking upon this large, impressive, and surely expensive contraption, what do you think?"

She giggled under his attention. "Oh, Robert! Isn't it a bit wild? Did you ever think such a thing possible? Mrs. Patmore says it will keep food fresh for weeks! Cheese, butter, milk, cake! It will all last so much longer! What a modern machine we've purchased for our kitchen! I even read in my magazine that they've invented a machine that will clean carpets, called a vacuum! And they have another that will wash the clothes!"

Robert pulled back, indignant. "What do these men think, inventing such things? Do they think that machines could possibly replace the quality of hard-working servants? What do they propose for the servants to do if they were to be replaced by such impersonal machines? I understand some things, such as your…. your… this ice box -"

"Refrigerator, darling," she supplied.

"Of course. But if we start here, where is the end? If we have a machine to clean carpets, to keep our food iced, to wash our clothes, what do you suppose will become of all our dear and trusted servants? Are they all truly to be replaced by silver humming contraptions?"

"Oh, Robert," she smiled at her husband, always thinking of the good of the estate and the people who lived and worked there. She loved him for it. "I haven't thought about what you're asking - and they are truly good questions, dearest. You have every right to ask them - as Lord Downton, all the people here are under your care, but -" she reached up to brush the hint of bed head that was beginning behind his greying temples. "But you promised me a look and I would love to share a small something or dessert with you - and we can leave tomorrow's worries until tomorrow?"

He looked down at her for a beat before kissing her softly.

"Of course, Cora." She could feel the warmth of his gaze passing over her face as his hands reached for her waist and pulled her to him, looking deeply into her eyes before asking in all seriousness, "I think I'd worry less if I had a bit of cake, wouldn't you agree?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Let's see here . . . what do we need . . . " She could feel his eyes on her as she gathered crackers and spreads, a small pitcher of milk, knives, forks, small plates, and a set of tea towels she liked from drawers and nooks and crannies around the kitchen. She looked back over her shoulder at her husband, returning his smile, enjoying the rare late night moment of adventure with him. How nice it was that after so many years together, they could still find something new to do, some new way to laugh and take pleasure in each other's company.

And how lovely it was to feel this peace and contentment between them, to banter and flirt so easily, just like they used to before months of Mr. Bricker's meddlesome behavior. They'd been through so much . . . and something about Robert had changed, too, in the months since the selling of the della Francesca. He seemed to ask her more questions, to listen and pay more attention to her than he has in the last few years. She finds that they are walking in the gardens arm-in-arm again in the afternoons, for hours sometimes, just talking about the children, the grandchildren, the estate, or memories with each other.

She'd thought she'd fallen in love with Robert in those whirlwind months of courtship and planning a wedding - but truly she'd fallen in love several times in the nearly forty years they'd spent together. Most recently as they discovered being grandparents together, as Robert began loosening the reins on some of the responsibilities of the estate and found more time to relax, as they reconnected emotionally and physically in the aftermath of that 'ghastly art dealer,' as Robert would call him.

Nothing about life was ever truly easy, was it? she mused - the ache of missing Sybil was constant as ever. She worried for Mary and for Edith - prayed that they would find the love they both so deserved. She missed Tom and Sybbie everyday, and times were changing faster than she could keep up and certainly too quickly to give her enough time to convince Robert of any of the merits of modern inventions or ways of thinking. He'd recently started confessing some fears he had about the future finances of the estate - there were rumours of families like theirs being forced to fire all the help, sell treasured paintings and parcel off the land. They'd faced financial ruin before and made it through, more than once, by the grace of God, but now . . .

She shivered away the chill of the refrigerator and the heavy turn of her thoughts and brought her eyes up to look at his. And everything that threatened faded away in the clear adoration she saw on his face. She felt suddenly warm and terribly affectionate towards him, her dear, dear husband; silently promising to make more of an effort to do something new every once in a while to keep the flame that had always burned between them still burning bright in the years to come.

She lit the stove top to put on water for tea, and walked back to the island to cut the cake and placed a slice before him, when he asked, teasing, "Darling, how is it you know your way so well around our kitchen? I am quite impressed. Should Mrs. Patmore be concerned about her position?"

She smirked slightly at him. "But of course I know my way around my own kitchen in my own home," she quipped.

"But of course, Lady Grantham," he chuckled back and she smiled. "I actually would expect nothing less from you. But still, I had no idea you'd spent any significant time down here."

Cora chuckled in response, unfolding a napkin and dramatically patting it down on his lap, smoothing it over his legs and letting her hands linger. "Oh. Thank you, darling," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the space behind her ear as she pulled back.

"Actually, I used to play in our kitchen quite a bit when I was a little girl. I know about cooking and baking. The kitchen was always open to Harold and myself; there was forever a tray of sweets out, should we want them, until I reached an age where my mother started in about keeping my figure trim and I just wasn't allowed to play anymore. Anyway, I might know a bit about how to make a small meal of some sort. It is quite different in America, you know."

"I am very aware Americans are different."

She paused and shot him a look, jutting her chin out in acknowledgment of the old joke between them, then smiled a little deviously, forgoing a plate of her own and standing beside him to cut him a small bite of cake onto the ends of a fork. He hesitated for a moment as she held the sweet suspended in the air before his mouth, before smiling and opening his mouth in acceptance. She cut her own small piece of cake and watched him watch her place it delicately in her mouth and chew softly and slowly, licking the crumbs and sugar crystals off her lip, an eyebrow raised in his direction, as she casually lay her hand upon his thigh.

"Yes, very aware and very appreciative of certain differences," he nearly whispered, leaning in to kiss her softly. She held back a smirk, noting a hazy hue of lust in his eye as he pulled back to continue. "But that still doesn't explain how you know exactly where things are in this particular kitchen. Cook used to slip me sweets when I was a boy, too - I'm so glad there are so few photographs of how absolutely chubby I was, as you and the girls would die laughing. But I've lived here all my life and wouldn't know where to find a spoon."

She giggled a little at the image of her husband as a chubby little boy, running down the stairs to beg for a cookie. She'd seen pictures of him as a child and thought he was the most adorable thing, but they did always make her and the girls laugh.

He'd asked her an honest question and she meant to answer, but she cocked her head to the side and paused for a moment, realizing that what she was about to tell him something she never had before.

"Actually . . . I used to spend quite a bit of time here. I would come down at night sometimes. In the evening after everyone had gone to bed . . . I would slip down here and - "

"What?" Robert's brow furrowed in confusion as he interrupted her. "And when was this? When you were with child? I think I'd remember that. Neither of us slept much at all - "

"No," she stopped him. "No, darling. It was when you were gone. The first time, it was during the War. You weren't here, and sometimes things got so difficult upstairs, you see, and I - " she stopped, biting her lip, suddenly overcome with a rush of emotion as she looked at him.

"Cora, what do you mean, sweetheart?" he asked softly. The desire was gone from eyes now and she saw only concern. He turned on the stool and pulled her by her hands to stand in between his legs, placing her palms on his chest as his arms held her lightly around the waist.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I don't know," she whispered, picking at nothing on the front of his dressing gown. "It was so long ago."

"Please tell me, dearest. It was long ago but those years can haunt me, too. They obviously meant something to you. Do go on, if you can."

She nodded. "Actually, it's kind of a nice memory. Of course, what I mean is, you were gone, and that was terrible. It was awful sometimes - not hearing from you for weeks, imagining the worst, trying to be strong for the girls and manage everything here as best I could."

"And we both know you did a superb job. You always seem to do so well in my absence. I'm always so pleased with you."

"Well," she ducked her head, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Managing the estate was actually the easy part. And the girls were trying at times, as they missed you terribly. Mary especially was always worried, but they were so sweet and distracting. But in the evening, dining with Mama, Rosamund, whoever else was here at the time, and knowing that I'd have to walk the stairs alone and spend the night without you . . . sometimes I just couldn't do it, Robert. I know it was wrong, and I should have been a better hostess in your absence, and I promise it wasn't often. But sometimes I would complain of headache, and skip dinner. I'd spend a little time with the girls, help Nanny run their baths and brush their hair, take longer to put them to bed. And when I was sure everyone had gone up and the servants were in their quarters, I would sneak down to the kitchen." She paused in her memory, looking around the room, still seeing it as it was all those years ago. "It always smelled so comforting and familiar - bread and sweets and milk. And I would make myself some tea or find something small to eat. You would always write that I had to remember to take care of myself, and I didn't want to disappoint you: I knew I had to keep my strength up. I'd sit with a candle, thinking of letters to write to you, until I felt tired enough to fall asleep alone. And I thought it was my little secret until I noticed that there always seemed to be a lit candle and a tray of goodies left out next to a teacup, and a full kettle waiting." She smiled at herself. "I'm still not sure who it was, although I have my suspicions. We do have such a dear staff, Robert."

"I have a very dear wife," he intoned, leaning to nuzzle his nose against her cheek. "And we have shared a wonderful life together. But that time was difficult for us both, being apart as we were. Why did you never tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want to add to your burdens. I knew I had to be strong for you and the girls."

"You were my strength, Cor. You always are." He raised up one of her hands to his lips. "You said 'the first time,' when you spoke of coming here. Was there another time?"

She looked away from him again and chewed on her lip in thought, but when she turned back to meet his eyes, she knew that he knew.

"I miss her everyday. We all miss her everyday." He pulled her closer until her head rested against his shoulder.

"Do you remember when she baked a cake for me? How Carson thought it was such a scandal, and almost spoiled the whole surprise?" His answering chuckle reverberated against her and she shivered closer into his embrace. "She was so proud of herself, learning how to boil water and knead dough and all of it. I was so proud of her, too," she continued. "Our darling girl."

"Do you think she knew that . . . " he stopped, and she leaned back to try and meet his eyes, but he looked away. Her hand on his cheek pulled him back to her, asking him to go on. "Do you think she knew that I was proud of her as well? Sometimes, especially in the beginning, with the nursing, and with Tom, and Ireland - but I was always - but I never really said it, did I? I know I'm not very good at, well . . . But did she - "

"She knew, my love," she spoke softly, stroking his cheek lightly. "Who wouldn't be proud to have Sybil as his daughter?"

They shared a quiet moment in the kitchen, lost in thought but connected to each other, and Cora felt herself fall into his arms, let him hold her as they both needed, remembering the child they'd lost too soon, the time they'd lost in the pain they'd felt separately afterwards in the dark chasm created by that loss until they had finally been able to come together to mourn their sweet baby girl.

"Oh, Sybil. My sweet, beautiful baby," Cora whispered, feeling Robert press a kiss into her hair. "Darling - what do you think if when Sybbie and Tom come to visit, perhaps she and I and Marigold might all learn how to bake something together?" She leaned back, excited at the idea. "We could make a cake or some sweets and oh, don't you think the girls would love to decorate them with frosting? We could serve them for tea - like a real grown up ladies tea! Oh, I think they would love it!"

Robert laughed. "If they enjoy it half as much as their Granny is enjoying just thinking of it, I daresay it will be an interesting afternoon."

"Really, Robert - I think it would be such fun! Perhaps Mrs. Patmore could show us a few things, just some basics in the kitchen. Times are changing, you know. A few skills in the kitchen - "

"Steady on, Cora, as long as I breathe none of my granddaughters will ever need - " he tried to cut her off, clearly disturbed at the thought of Sybbie or Marigold needing to cook for themselves, or, God forbid, seek work as a cook.

"I know they will never want for anything in your lifetime, dearest," Cora quickly placated him. "You've always worked so hard to take care of all of us. I just think it would be . . . " she trailed off for a moment.

"It would be a lovely memory with your granddaughters, my darling. I think it's a splendid idea. I can't wait to taste the results of your efforts."

"You approve?" she asked, face turned wide to his, eager and excited.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Of course. After all - happy wife, happy life."

"Oh, you're finally learning," she teased, her lips breaking into a smile.

"What?!" he scoffed in mock offense, but she angled her lips up to his and stole away any remark he might have made.

"All right, Cora. You've had your sweets, and now I want mine," he leaned in and buried his nose and lips into her neck, slipping his arms around her waist. She grinned over her shoulder as she felt him twist at the ribbon that held the braid in her hair, the kisses he lay on her skin change slowly from chaste to something more as his hands drifted lower down her back.

"I did promise I would make it worth your while, didn't I?" she pulled back, letting her cheek rest against his for two seconds, before throwing her arms around his neck on impulse and pressing fully into him. "Oh, Robert!" she cried softly. He started for a second, surprised, his quick "what, darling?" went unanswered, but then his own arms tightened around her, and they stayed for a beat, melting in, drawing strength from each other. Cora sighed, a hitch in her breath, feeling her heart beat full and heavy in her ribcage against her husband's chest, where his heart beat steadily in the same way.

"I am happy, so very happy with you," she whispered at last, and he drew her backwards in his arms to look at her. She smiled at him, so close their noses bumped. "And I just wanted to tell you so."

He slid his nose along hers and down to her cheek, twisting to kiss her lips, and she felt his smile stretch against her own.

"I am glad," he kissed her again, "for many things in this life, for we are blessed. Cor - I am so very glad you are mine."

* * *

"Do you think they heard us?" he asked, slowly opening the door completely and glancing up the stairwell.

"No," she answered from behind him. "I daresay they were plenty caught up in each other. Look - they've left the plates and cups out," she clicked her tongue, walking past his large frame to the island in the kitchen. "Lord and Lady are quite on the mend - up to their usual tricks and flights of fancy. Reminds me of years past."

"Hmm . . . well" Carson mumbled, clearly uncomfortable in talking about Lord and Lady in that way. He drew up to his considerable full height. "We should tidy up. I wouldn't want any of the servants to ask questions."

"Don't frown at me for speaking so," she clucked again, smiling. "Not to worry, my love. I'll be just a moment." Mrs. Hughes quickly disposed of the evidence of the midnight sweets and tea before walking back to where he stood guard lest any of the staff should stumble into the kitchen.

"Well. I thank you for the wine. And the conversation. It was rather fun to stay hidden in your room there. And I know we shouldn't have eavesdropped - we should have made our presence known right away. We didn't hear much, but what we did . . ." She shook her head and trailed off in thought. "We do work for some mighty fine people. I know I've told you I don't see them quite the same as you, but . . . I do hold them rather dear. And now," she blushed prettily at him. "Soon we won't have to say this to each other, I suppose, but, I'd best be off to my own bed." She placed her hand on his chest blushing deeper.

He looked down at her hand for a moment, and she watched his eyebrows relax, the ends of his lips curl up into a soft smile at her as he placed his hand over hers before looking up and meeting her gaze tenderly, his other hand coming to rest on her waist. "Goodnight, my Elsie."

"Oh, my," she nearly giggled. "Kiss me quick, Mr. Carson. For I want it and you deserve it."

Their lips met softly, then more deeply until she pulled away. "Oh my," she whispered, and saw what she was feeling echoed in his eyes, until a sudden look of uncertainty swept over his features.

"I beg your pardon if I have been too forward, Mrs. Hughes, I didn't mean -"

"I'm Elsie, for the first time in what feels like forever," she interrupted him, and he stood still under her gaze, watching the half smile on her lips. "Your Elsie," she reminded, stretching on her tip toes to press a quick reassuring kiss to his cheek. "And I look forward to more of that."

She turned on her heels and walked up the stairs, leaving him smiling, slightly dazed, until he turned back to glance at the calendar on his wall with a certain date circled - one after which she wouldn't say goodnight to him and walk somewhere anymore.

"My Elsie, indeed," he murmured, shutting off the light and heading to his quarters, resisting the urge to whistle.


End file.
